1) The Sleeping Cleric
by gmcampey
Summary: Elantar, having been exiled from her homeland, is searching for answers about her past. While making her way to the city of Dennovar, she hears that Taran Goldstar, a known expert in Elven history is missing, and that his mentor, the Arch Mage Nethril, has put up a reward for his return.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**

These 'Author's Notes' are much longer than I'll be planning to write as a rule; most of the time there probably won't be any at all. Before this first section, I wanted to explain where the story came from, and to give credit where it's due.

This story is actual D&D games played out by a gaming group and then put into prose. Throughout, I've tried to remain faithful to how the characters interact with one another while we're around the table, and this is the starting point for a lot of the main characters' traits: I have been pulled up on this when I've interpreted it incorrectly and made changes so that each players' character is the person that they've imagined. In some cases though, this is a deliberate mis-reading: my character (Elantar) is the eyes, ears and voice of most of it, and a lot of what you'll read is her opinions and observations. For this reason though, the characters are not all my own creation by any means, even after being put into prose: some short sections (where the perspective switches) were written in collaboration with the other players in the group, or written/edited by them (I'd do a final edit so that it fit stylistically).

More than anyone else, credit needs to go to our DM, John, who (obviously) is responsible for the overall plot. He has used parts of published adventures in places, but there's still a fair bit of modification that needs to go on, not least with us being a larger than average party (six at the smallest, eight at the largest). So; the main structure of the plot comes from John, and us, the players make it twist and turn based on our decisions. You're probably familiar with how D&D works… All I've done is collate and present (and sometimes embellish) that as the text that follows: this is very much a group effort.

We are adventuring in Elsir Vale; a region written for the Red Hand of Doom supplement. At time of publishing, we are still working through this supplement in our monthly get-togethers (after a couple of other adventures to precede it and introduce us to the game). I have over sixty-five thousand words already written between this (the beginning) and where we are up to now (The Fane of Tiamat). My writing has improved significantly since I began, and I've wanted to go back to the start and re-roll my Craft (Author) checks on it. By publishing it in short sections from the start, I felt that this could help me to structure this, err, re-structuring.

Game Mechanic Information \- Please skip down if you're not interested :)

We play 3.5 edition with a couple of House Rules. To quote our DM:

"All skills are class skills for everybody. You want your Cleric to have picked up some ranks in 'Survival' on his travels? Go right ahead. You want your sorcerer to come from a Mongol-esque Barbarian tribe and have some ranks in 'Ride'? Do it.

"'Spot' and 'Listen' have been combined into 'Perception'. 'Hide' and 'Move Silently' have been combined into 'Stealth'. This is mostly to cut down on rolls.

"You may choose to treat 'Intimidate' as a Strength based skill, because your Half-Orc Barbarian should not be less intimidating than the party Bard."

Between us, we've used material from a lot (if not all available) expansions and supplements, so this always seems to be an option for us. None of us are really into min-maxing and optimisation, and look more for fun options (which, personally, I think makes for a much more fun experience all-round). Some examples:

\- Our Barbarian has always wanted to be a Bard deep down, so she's invested skill ranks in Perform, and has taken a couple of class options towards that too…  
\- Our Cleric is edging ever-gradually towards Evil alignment, so can't spontaneously cast healing spells. We don't really have a dedicated healer...  
\- The Rogue that I play is far more interested in showing off her acrobatic skill than smashing enemies (+23 Jump at level 10 isn't too shabby...)  
\- Our Wizard's most valued trait is his arrogance…  
\- We have a Gnome Fighter who's supposed to Tank for us, but who most delights in riding his Dire Badger mount and aiming a lance at "sensitive areas" of enemies' bodies…

I'll try to include notes on character levelling as I go, but I don't have most of it to hand. We began with 3rd level characters that John provided for us, and nobody broke outside of their starting class until 7th level (we're currently 10). A couple of us had dabbled with D&D before beginning this, but most hadn't had any prior involvement.

Finally, a reiteration of thanks to our group (I'll include notes on party changes as they happen): John (DM), James (Boshley), Jeff (Eldrann), Melissa (Arden), Mike (Eldarion), Rebecca (Buttercup) and Steve (Gravak).

Enjoy!

Glen (Elantar)

* * *

 **The Sleeping Cleric**

 **** I ****

Elantar held her breath as the lock clicked open. It seemed to clap thunderously in the otherwise silent hallway, but she exhaled with relief when nothing seemed to have noticed. Once inside, the flickering glare cast by the last remaining candle afforded her a decent enough view of the chamber. This accommodation was pretty plush compared to what she was used to, but Elantar and her newfound companions had bought back a good haul from the ruined fortress in the mountains, and they were spending it well.

Hand on her dagger, Elantar crept silently towards the bed where Gravak lay, eyes closed, his gnarled face twitching every few seconds. She had spent the past few days in the Orc's company, but now she reflected on it, she'd only seen his face for a rare few moments. He seemed overly fond of his full-face helmet, and this, amongst everything else in Elantar's world, made him harder to trust.

She sat and watched him for a long time, thinking over the events of the past week or so.

* * *

 _Ten days earlier_.

The South Gate of Dennovar was a wonder to behold, if you liked that sort of thing. Guard-Sergeant Claré had got rather bored of it these past few years.

He watched the small party of Halflings who were appraising it, open mouthed and excited, and reflected that he'd felt that way once. His father, who'd stood guard on this gate for thirty years when he was alive, had made clear to him the honour that the post held. He found it hard to believe now that it was all he had aspired to growing up; he'd become nothing more than a tour guide a lot of the time. Knowledge of the craftsman Rudi Corethio and his bloody gates had become one of his most valued skills.

Claré had just arrived for a six-hour shift, but found that he needed to immediately relieve Bates, while Bates relieved himself. He didn't expect anything interesting to come of the hand-over meeting, but knew they were necessary.

"Thanks for that Sir," Bates sighed with comfort, "you just made it in time to prevent a flood of the armour!" Claré smiled in response, but wasn't really in the mood for Bates' humour today.  
"Anything unusual this morning?" he asked, fully expecting a negative response.  
"Yes, actually," Bates responded, and looked pleased to have surprised his sergeant. "A few strange folk coming through asking after Nethril," he added with a nod to the castle on top of the hill.  
"How many? Did they say why?" Claré asked.  
"There was an Elf Wizard first, which I suppose is fairly normal… then that Bard, Arden; you know the one? She's often playing her flute in _The Startled Weasel_." Claré narrowed his eyes at him: Bates knew very well that Claré did everything he could to see all of Arden's shows. Bates chuckled. "It's alright Sir, don't blame you at all there," he said with a wink.

"Anyone else?" Claré asked, moving on.  
"Yeah, a couple of Half-Orcs…"  
"Together?"  
"No, about an hour apart," he answered, handing over some parchment. "I took names and descriptions, and had them followed. They both went straight to Nethril, like they'd promised."  
"Good…" Claré answered, perusing the notes. "Gravak," he nodded, "and… Buttercup? That's not exactly a typical Orc name…"  
"Said it's the only name she uses now," Bates shrugged.

"So, who of these talked?" Claré asked.  
"None of them," he answered, "but there was also a very heavily armoured Gnome who wouldn't stop talking. Quite handy, as it turned out." He stepped closer and dropped to a whisper. "The gist of it is, one of High Wizard's apprentices has gone missing, and Nethril wants him found again. He's put up a reward and everything."  
"Did he say which one? Anything else?"  
"Taran Goldstar," Bates answered. "Just that, and that he was last seen in Torlynn." Claré nodded slowly. He knew Taran a little; he was very personable, for an Elf, but impetuous. It seemed that the latter had landed him in trouble.

Claré thanked Bates for the report, and dismissed him. Perhaps today would be more interesting after all.

"Excuse me sir?" Claré looked around, and finally downwards to see one of the Halflings gesturing at him. "Do you know where we can find the home of Rudi Carethio?"

* * *

Claré continued to field questions about the gate and the layout of the city for another hour before anything of note happened. A cloaked and hooded figure rode up on a very fine looking horse and dismounted about twenty feet away. From the figure's graceful movements, he guessed that it was a female, or possibly an Elf, but couldn't tell much about them from this distance, so watched with caution. Whoever it was, she looked lost. She did very little for a couple of minutes, but gradually move closer, looking very reluctant to seek aid.

"Can I help you?" Claré finally called across. The stranger glanced up and pulled down her hood. He gasped with surprise; Elven women were usually breathtakingly beautiful. This one may have been once, but two brutal scars that ran the length of her right cheek marred her features. She wasn't a patch on Arden, and the Bard was apparently only Half-Elven.  
"I'm looking for Nethril," she announced as she stepped closer. Claré had suspected as much. He glared back at her and smirked.  
"What would an Elf traveller want with the High Wizard?" he asked mockingly. "You're not even… well…" he looked her up and down, "you're not very presentable, are you? Do you have an invitation?"

She reached instinctively for a sword hilt at her belt, but curtailed the movement of her hand before Claré needed to react with force. The Elf fixed him with a stare. Claré rarely felt afraid, but this was quickly becoming one such occasion.

"Do you know where he is, or not?" she asked sharply. Claré quickly re-assed. The Elf wasn't going to be free with information. While confident he could take her in a fight, he didn't really need that today.  
"You'll find him at the fort at the top of this hill," he gestured with his shortspear. The Elf turned away and raised her hood again. "Can I take your name for the record?" he called after her. She said nothing, but mounted her horse and trotted back towards him. She glared at him for a few more seconds in silence.  
"Elantar Moonwhisper," she stated, and headed westward, into the city.

* * *

"Hi! You here for Nethril's job too?"

Elantar peered out from under her hood as the room turned to face her. The Human girl who'd spoken was approaching with a smile. She noted a few features and corrected her understanding.  
"You're half-Elven," she stated. The girl stopped short and gave a very brief frown, before quickly smiling again and taking a bow.  
"And proud!" she grinned. "Where are you from?"

Elantar disliked her immediately. Anyone who could speak this confidently in front of a group of strangers made her anxious. Not only that, but the flute hanging from her belt loop suggested that there'd be music on this job.  
"North of here," she answered slowly.  
"We're in Dennovar!" she responded with a chuckle. "There isn't a whole lot of ' _south_ of here'…"

"Hello again Arden," the guard who'd escorted to the room gestured with a blush.  
"Hello Simpkins," she responded, forcing a smile. "Is Nethril going to be much longer? Some of us have been here a couple of hours now, and we're not exactly blessed with comforts."  
"I'll err… He shouldn't be much longer. I'll… I'll see what I can do about some more drinks."

Arden smiled and turned back to Elantar. "Anyway…" she began, but stopped short when she noticed that Elantar had already moved to the far corner of the room, the furthest point from all the others.

Elantar lowered her hood, and quickly appraised her companions. It was inevitable that she'd be working with others, she told herself. Being one who preferred to work alone, she knew that there was every chance that this would prove to be the most difficult part. Besides the half-Elf, who apparently went by the name of Arden, there was an Elven Wizard, and two half-Orcs who seemed to have just stopped talking amongst themselves. All three of them were staring at her silently: the wizard with a puzzled look, as if he was trying to recall some important information. The half-Orcs were much harder to read; she'd never got to know any before now. She fought and killed them in the past, but never spoken with or observed any for long. Both of them were powerfully built, and would have stood at least a foot-and-a-half taller than her were they not sitting. One had a calm, almost noble look about it, the other cradled a huge two-handed axe and wore an angry expression, which may have just been how its face was formed. She could not tell if they were male or female. Besides the four occupants, the room also contained some unattended equipment: a small suit of full plate armour amongst it.

Warily, the Wizard stood and approached her. "Good to see another Elf here," he said as he neared, his hand outstretched. "I'm Eldrann."

Elantar had been raised amongst Elves, most of whom despised her. She had felt the same about all of them, with one exception. Eldrann simply being an Elf was not going to win her trust.  
"Elantar," she said slowly, taking the offered hand for the briefest moment. "I'm yet to meet a Wizard who I've trusted," she added. Eldrann frowned, but cast surreptitious glances at her scars. She was in no mood to explain them.

She glanced around the room, and received a nodded greeting from the calmer looking Orc. The other only glanced up briefly, before the two resumed their conversation in their unintelligible tongue.

Arden joined the two Elves and introduced herself by name, using the Elven tongue. "Their names are Buttercup and Gravak," she said, gesturing to the Orcs sat against the opposite wall, "I'll let you work out which is which."  
"There's a half-Orc named after a flower?" Elantar responded hesitantly.  
"We don't think it's her birth name," Eldrann stated. Arden nodded at him, with an expression that suggested he'd said something particularly deep. Once he'd looked away, she rolled her eyes and smirked.

"I think that Gnome had the right idea," Arden continued after a short silence, "going to wait at the Tavern instead like that."  
"More-fool him if he misses Nethril," Eldrann responded.

"You said you'd been waiting a couple of hours?" Elantar asked.  
"Eldrann was already here when I arrived at the same time as Buttercup," she answered, "and Gravak about an hour after that which would have been…" she turned to the Orcs and interrupted them: "How long have you been here Gravak?" The calmer Orc looked up at them and simply answered "about forty minutes," before resuming his conversation with Buttercup. Elantar had guessed their names the wrong way around.

"Hello again new friends!" a voice called from the doorway. A Gnome staggered in, looking slightly worse for wear, closely followed by another Elf, lightly armoured and carrying a longbow. He was very handsome, and carried himself as if he knew this. Elantar determined to show him no special favour for this reason. "Ah, another new arrival!" The Gnome squeaked and approached Elantar. He took a deep bow and exclaimed: "Boshley Badger Bentock, of Clan Beren from Garfen!"

Elantar looked on in stunned silence. "Is one of those words your name?" she finally asked. The Gnome looked taken-aback and chuckled in an attempt to hide his discomfort.  
"All of them," he stated.  
"You know how Gnomes love their names," Arden smiled.  
"Not really…" Elantar responded.

"I've been calling him Boshley," the newcomer said, answering Elantar, but only interested in looking at Arden. "Eldarion Starsinger," he said, introducing himself to the Bard.  
"I met Eldarion at the tavern," Boshley added, "told him about our job and he thought he'd join us too." Eldarion smiled uncomfortably around the room. His gaze lingered on Elantar for a few seconds.

"What's wrong with your face?" he suddenly blurted out.  
"Hey!" Arden exclaimed. "There's no need for that…"

"Right, sorry…" Eldarion smirked. "Do we know what the pay's like?" he asked.  
"It's good," Arden answered, "but this Taran is worth more to Nethril alive, so a lot depends on his fate. Even if we only manage to recover his body we'll be well compensated though."

Elantar hadn't thought much about the money. She already had more than she'd known in her life, and not much idea how to spend it. She still spent most nights sleeping under the stars, caught her own meals and she'd stolen much of what she carried. The draw for her had instead been the Apprentice himself: he was said to be an expert on Elven history, and she had unanswered questions.

Simkins re-entered the room, and blushed as Arden greeted him. "Nethril will see you now," he announced.

* * *

She tried to adjust to the company as they moved north to the village of Torlynn, in the southern foothills of the Giantshield Mountains. Arden had managed to swing them guard duty on a wagon train that was going the same way as them. It paid well, especially factoring in the complete absence of danger on the journey. Elantar kept to herself on the road and observed her new companions, looking for ways to overcome the indifference or dislike that she felt towards them all. She didn't understand how others made friends so easily.

Eldarion seemed ill at ease around most of the others too; she thought that he may have been more likely to make a trustworthy companion, but instead, with both of them struggling to relate well to new people, it just made it more difficult. The Ranger did however have an aptitude for stealth and scouting that had impressed Elantar, and in truth, she needed to raise her game a bit to keep up. If nothing else, she would be able to learn from him. There was certainly an arrogance about Eldarion that she didn't like though.

Eldrann being a Wizard made her instantly dislike him. In the tribe she was born into, Wizards had a fairly high standing, were treated as if they were the wisest amongst them and were the King's most trusted councillors. She'd learnt that the best wizards in Khirin Alithenen were the ones who could fake it the best, and she had no reason to believe that Eldrann was any different. His knowledge of the arcane and ancient history provided outrageous and vague nuggets of trivia. As far as she was concerned, he was making it all up and wasn't even very good at that.

Arden and Boshley were both far too talkative, and anyone so at ease around people they barely knew intimidated her. The Orcs were both intimidating for more physical reasons; both towered over her, and were hugely built. Making enemies of either of them would be incredibly dangerous; she'd done her best to keep out of their way. Buttercup was obviously dangerous, and having seen her move when they hunted, Elantar doubted that she could even out run her. Gravak had a quiet dignity about him, but she felt that there was also a deep-rooted rage inside.

Arden, despite how annoying she could be, had shown some value: the party wouldn't have found their way into this easy ride north without her, and when they arrived in Torlynn, her diplomacy once again came into play.

* * *

"Ogres?" Arden confirmed.  
"Yes! They've been causing us some problems for a number of weeks now," Gustovan responded. The Mayor of Torlynn was panicked. This was his town, and he could do nothing to defend it from the two Ogre tribes who'd moved into the region. Elantar had heard people in the tavern talking in hushed whispers of taking action themselves, and not against the Ogres.  
"Well, it seems we got here just in time!" the Bard boasted. "It just so happens that we're heading north anyway, and I'm sure dealing with a few Ogres will cause us no problems."  
"Really?" The Mayor asked warily. "I heard your names, but none of them were familiar to me…"  
"Surely you jest sir!" Arden managed to feign wounded pride pretty well, and Elantar became alert to the charade that was beginning to play out. "Pray, tell me you are not serious when you say that word of Buttercup, Fist of the East, has not reached your ears? She has slain Giants and Dragons – Ogres will be no problem for her!" Elantar had listened carefully to the stories on the road. Buttercup had spoken once of seeing a Giant fighting a Dragon. Arden was making this all up on the spot, and potentially playing a dangerous game.  
"My friend Eldarion here," she gestured to the Ranger behind her, "has killed many Ogres. He collects their knuckle bones, and has filled over twenty large chests with them!"

Gustovan raised an eyebrow. Elantar didn't think he was buying any of it. "Well," he pondered, "if that's true, and I'm sure you have extravagant tales of your other companions exploits to match…"  
"Oh, but I do!" Arden cut in. "I haven't told you about our brave Gnome warrior yet!" Elantar's throat caught. Eldrann audibly groaned. "Boshley Badger Bentock of clan Beren! Defender of Garfen! Keeper of the peace!" Boshley's chest began to swell with pride. "His town was once attacked by a rare breed of mutant Badger-Kobolds, and Boshley led the defence. He single-handedly…"  
"Wait, wait!" Boshley interjected. "No such thing ever happened!" Everybody looked at each other. Then they looked at the Gnome. He finally caught on, and his ears turned red… "That is to say, err…"  
"That's right!" Arden leapt to the rescue, "It was Kobold Knights on Riding Badgers! I do apologise, Mr Mayor; so many tales of heroism that I confuse the details every now and then…"

"Look here," Gustovan interrupted. "The long and the short of it is, if you'll pardon my expression Mr Gnome."  
"Not at all!" Boshley assured him.  
"We are losing our crops and cattle to these Ogres, and every now and then a person has gone missing too. If you are all you claim to be, we would be delighted if you could help us. Only… can it be… sort of… now?"

Buttercup hadn't spoken much. She rarely said anything to anyone except Gravak, and had only been coaxed into speaking the Common Tongue around the campfire a couple of times on the journey. It was for this reason that everyone in the room was surprised when it was she that asked the inevitable question:  
"Ow much?"  
"Well, err…" Gustovan seemed flummoxed, or perhaps a little threatened. Elantar wondered if Arden had planned this move with the Barbarian.  
"I'm very much a believer in performance related pay," the Major continued.  
"Wossat?!" Buttercup asked. Gravak put a hand to her shoulder and gave a reassuring nod.  
"So," Arden took over, "you're thinking of a per-head bounty? Something else along those lines?"  
"Quite. Say; ten gold coins per Ogre head?"  
"Ten!" Arden acted insulted. Elantar had to admire her work; she was getting better at this. "I'd want ten in labour charges to haul them back here! I was thinking more along the lines of a hundred per head."  
"Well… That is, I'm afraid, impossible."  
"Well, my associates and I _do_ have other business to attend to. We'd be very reluctant to do it for less than ninety."  
"Ninety! For ninety gold, the whole town could eat for a month! I might be able to go to thirty?"  
"And what will you eat?" countered Arden. "The Ogres are taking all of your food. Think of it as a necessary, but wonderful long-term investment." The Mayor looked crestfallen. He really had no choice here, he was desperate for help and Arden had him exactly where she wanted him.

"I tell you what," she said, adopting a sympathetic tone, "I can see you're in trouble, and we're not monsters. We'll do it for sixty gold per head of Ogre, and that's my final offer." Gustovan looked up, a plethora of emotions on his face.  
"Fifty?"  
"Done."

Arden clapped him on the shoulder, and immediately turned to the party grinning.

* * *

They didn't see any Ogres on the road. The way the people of Torlynn had gone on about them, they expected them to be lining the way. Having no real inkling to where the Ogres were, they continued with their own plans. If they managed to hew an Ogre neck or two in the process, so much the better.

The Old Mountain Fortress, as the somewhat unimaginative locals called it, appeared to them over the tree line at midday, the second day out of Torlynn.

"I'll go take a look," Elantar announced.  
"Err, are you sure?" Eldarion responded. "This is the sort of thing I do."  
"I'll be quicker on my own, and I have good eyes. Wait here," she stated, keen to assert her role within the party. Gravak caught her by the shoulder as she turned away.  
"You should both go," he stated simply.  
"I agree," Arden shrugged.

Eldarion and Elantar looked at each other briefly, before both slipping into the undergrowth to approach the fortress.

They silently made progress and were approaching the edge of the small wood that they had been travelling through. Elantar winced as a twig snapped under her foot. As expected, Eldarion turned to glare at her furiously. She shrugged, and waved him on. Seconds later, Eldarion crunched over another twig and froze. He turned slowly to meet Elantar's gaze and chuckled as if in apology.

They crouched together amongst the greenery and observed the fort.  
"Only one way in from this side," Eldarion whispered. "And one look-out."  
"Is that an Orc?" Elantar asked. Eldarion nodded. "We should get a closer look at that side," she continued, "and take out the guard."

The lookout wasn't doing a particularly good job, as it turned out, as they circled to the left of the fort, staying amongst the trees and remained unseen. The tower on which the guard was keeping watch was no more than thirty feet from them now, and was not particularly tall. They had a clear view of him from where they were.

"Now what?" Eldarion asked.  
"I'll take him," Elantar answered, and began to stand.  
"Why you?" Eldarion demanded.  
"Don't start this again…" she breathed. Eldarion took down his bow and began to fit an arrow. She pushed his bow aside. "That's too unreliable," she insisted. "You miss, or only lightly wound him and who knows how many Orcs will come pouring out of that gate?"  
"What do you suggest then?" he snapped. She drew a dagger.  
"I go bury this in his throat," she suggested.  
"Or I do…" Eldarion said, drawing his own weapon.  
"You're impossible…" she shrugged.  
"Boulder, Blade, Parchment?" he suggested.  
"Fine…"

They made their shapes on three.

"Boulder smashes blade," Eldarion grinned, tapping her fingers with his fist. He sprang from cover to the foot of the tower. As he began to climb, Elantar's attention was drawn to approaching footsteps. The remainder of their group, apparently restless, were approaching. The guard had noticed too, and moved to the edge of the tower, his hand resting on a horn at his hip. This helped to disguise Eldarion's ascent, and the Ranger gained the top behind the guard and silently drew his sword. Grinning, the Ranger swung for the Orc's neck, but only managed to ring a clanging blow off of his shoulder guard. Surprised, the Orc sidestepped a panicked second swing, and drew his own sword, swiping at the Ranger and cutting him deeply on the shoulder. Eldarion bit back the pain and tried to compose himself. Elantar drew her hand crossbow and quickly fitted a bolt. She didn't get an opportunity to fire though; an arrow flew at speed from the treeline and struck the Orc cleanly in its left eye. It keeled over, quite clearly dead. Eldarion breathed with relief and quickly plucked the arrow from the Orc's eye, discarding it over the far side of the tower.

By the time Elantar had reached the top of the tower, Eldarion had run his sword through the guard's heart and was looking to claim the kill for himself. Elantar kept her knowledge of the situation quiet; such information may prove strong currency at another time, after all.

The rest of the party took some time to approach the fortress, mostly down to the smallest and slowest member of their party. The Gnome was, quite simply, becoming a nuisance. She flinched with each minute step he took, his plate armour crashing together with every movement. He looked ridiculous, and making this much noise, he was a liability to them all. The rest of the party looked upon him fondly though, and wouldn't hear of him being left behind. She was simply glad to be nowhere near him when they reached the fortress gate, and the voices she'd been able to hear in the tower beneath fell silent.

Buttercup, being no fan of subtlety, wrenched the portcullis open with the shrill sound of grinding metal as the rest of the party poured into an empty hallway. It was about this time, she later learned, that the Gnome managed to get himself trapped in a pit, his armour being too heavy for him to pull himself free. He might have had help but for the Orc archers who ambushed the party from the rafters of the room, landing arrows amongst the adventurers. Shouts went up from her companions and she looked across at Eldarion.

"What do you think?" he asked. Elantar said nothing, but unholstered her hand crossbow and re-loaded a bolt. She didn't particularly like this weapon, but it was all she had to shoot with. Eldarion fitted two arrows to his longbow and Elantar opened the trapdoor beneath them with her free hand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:**

Have left a longer gap than planned due to moving house recently and having no internet access for a while. Part three should be quicker.

We left the story as the party had just busted into an old castle...

* * *

Five Orcs armed with short swords huddled around a door into the main hall. They appeared to have not noticed the Elves above them. The Ranger and the Rogue wasted no time, loosing their shots at the enemy below, one of Eldarion's arrows striking true and wounding a target.

The Orcs turned to growl at this assault from an unexpected angle, one reaching for the foot of the ladder to climb up to the Elves.

The door suddenly quivered, struck by an immense weight. Another blow, and Buttercup charged through, laying waste to two of the Orcs with a single swing of her huge battleaxe.

Eldrann moved into the doorway to the tower and began to chant. From inside the Fortress, they could hear a flute playing the opening notes of _The Whisper Of Anaerion_. Eldarion looked across at her, a smug expression on his face, fitting another arrow to his bow. Elantar dropped her crossbow and drew a sword. Resting her free hand on the lip of the hatch, she vaulted through, executing a sublime tumble in behind one of the Orcs. As she landed, she noticed that two of them lay prone and peaceful. She raised her sword to swing at the vulnerable back of the last Orc standing, but was instead covered in a spray of gore. The Orc fell away, and Elantar looked up into the grinning snout of Buttercup. She grunted something unintelligible and gestured behind her. Elantar quickly slit the throats of the two sleeping Orcs and entered the main hall.

They found Eldrann, who had returned to the hall, firing arrows into the ceiling. He was humming along to Arden's tune, and even Buttercup seemed to be enjoying it. Elantar could clearly make out the shapes of two Orcs balanced precariously on the beams above them, one of them fighting what looked like a giant caterpillar. Gravak stood below, his arms raised. The beast above matched his movements as he swayed side-to-side. The Orc cut down the summoned beast before slipping and falling from his perch. Gravak finished it off with a swift blow from his mace. Eladarion, joining them from the tower, lined up the second Orc, bringing him down with a single arrow. Whatever you could say about the Ranger, he certainly knew what to do with a bow.

She left the others to loot the corpses while checking the room more carefully: she didn't trust the others to have found all of its secrets. Eldarion found another pit, but being more nimble than the Gnome managed to escape easily. Elantar discovered two more doors towards the back of the hall.

Bosh, as the rest of the party had taken to calling him, was helped out of his pit, dragging his heavy shield behind him. He caught his breath.  
"Did I miss anything?" he chirped up. This bought a little laughter and a few grins from some of the party, but Elantar turned her attention back to the huge door on the long edge of the hall. She felt vibrations through the solid oak and stepped back.  
"Something's coming," she said, backing away and drawing her pair of swords. Boshley hoisted his shield back onto his left arm and readied his sword.  
"Good!" he squeaked.

The door flew open, and in strode the largest Orc any of them had ever seen. It hefted a gleaming white spear that glowed with hidden power and everyone was taken aback. Everyone, that is, except Boshley Bentock, who began to charge at the Orc with hitherto unwitnessed speed, swinging his sword and squeaking with rage. The rest of the party were shamed into action by this act of courage from what many of them had considered a mascot up until that point, but it was the Gnome who reached combat first, stabbing at the Orc's knees, and turning aside its spear thrusts with his shield. Gravak and the huge Orc traded grunts, snarls and gestures that had no meaning to Elantar, but their enemy's will seemed to waver and despite its stature, it soon fell as the rest of them had. It was then that the most astonishing thing happened: it shrunk.

Elantar didn't trust magic users. She'd always avoided them back home. She glared at Eldrann, daring him to own up, but he seemed as baffled as her. He examined the spear that the Orc had carried. "This spear holds transmutation magic. I'm not really sure what it does… Who wants it?" Boshley and Buttercup both looked interested, but Eldrann turned to Eldarion. "Here, it's yours."

Elantar returned to the tower to retrieve her crossbow while the rest of the party looked around the room. When she returned, Arden was attempting to climb into the rafters, and eventually struggled onto the lowest beam.  
"What are you doing?" asked Eldarion.  
"None of you thought to look up here," she replied. "This is where the Orcs were at first, remember?"

Elantar joined her soon after and helped her to look around amongst the rafters. The Bard soon gave up and returned to the ground. Elantar had spotted what she'd missed though, a small cloth bag containing a blue gemstone and some coins. She removed the stone and a couple of platinum pieces and secreted them in one of her cloak's pouches before refastening the bag and dropping it down to Arden.  
"Good thing I looked too, or we'd have missed this." She said, nonchalantly dropping down amongst the party.

The chamber the giant Orc had come from was some sort of temple or chapel. It contained a stone altar towards one end. Orcish symbols had been painted in red around the walls, and Gravak seemed either angered or offended by these. Elantar supposed they must have been symbols of a rival of the Cleric's god, if he even followed one in particular, that was. Whatever his motivation, it seemed to Elantar that most of the party became wary of him at this point. Cautiously, Eldarion backed out the chapel. "I'm going to check this other door, who's coming with me?" he ventured. Boshley, Arden and Eldrann all joined him, Buttercup and Gravak remained in the chapel looking at the symbols. Elantar stayed silent and looked on.

* * *

As she watched the sleeping Cleric, Elantar recalled Gravak at that moment in the fortress. The Orc was driven. She didn't know what by, but she had been impressed by his purpose and determination. She remembered how he'd acted when he thought no one saw back in that temple. When Buttercup left to deal with Boshley's next folly, Gravak sank to his knees, removed his helm, and she saw something then that she never thought she'd see an Orc do. At the time, she'd thought of it as a weakness that she might be able to find some way to exploit, but the events of the days in between had shown her more. There was a far greater depth to this Orc than she could have imagined of one so savage. It might be a greater strength than any of their companions had.

But in that chapel, he seemed vulnerable, just as he did now, asleep in this inn, the dangers they had all faced together long behind them.

The Orcs in the tower hadn't been the first victim's Elantar had killed in their sleep, and she'd grown to enjoy the power she felt in the act. The helplessness; the ignorance of her victims; being able to kill with impunity; the ease with which the final task could be accomplished and, most of all, knowing that there are few in the world who could actually do what she could do: possessing both the skill and the motivation to pull off what most reasonable people considered to be a heinous act.

She gripped her dagger again, yet to make her decision. She knew sunrise was not far off.

* * *

The squeaks coming from the other side of the hall could mean only one thing, and Elantar slipped out of the temple before Gravak could know that he wasn't alone. Boshley had once again revealed one of this place's secrets, and the rest of their companions were frantically trying to pull him from the jaws of a giant frog in the middle of a square cobbled courtyard.

The monster bit down, but Boshley's armour wouldn't be buckled, and the creature spat him out, looking for a softer meal. Elantar, swords drawn, leapt into the fight beside Buttercup and the sheepish looking Boshley, who was slowly getting to his feet. Eldarion, wielding his new spear, thrust at the beast as it tried to drag Buttercup into its maw with its tongue, but the Orc hacked at it, severing the tongue with her massive axe. Arrows from behind her peppered the frog, and it soon keeled over, Eldarion finishing it off with a spear thrust to its chest. Boshley looked embarrassed, but Elantar shot Eldarion a withering glare. The way she saw it, it was his idea to go off this way, and his responsibility to check the path was safe.

"There's some sort of storage hut over here," Eldrann announced. Eldarion looked away from Elantar.  
"I'll come take a look with you." He said. She hoped that he had taken her point.  
"Let's all go," added Arden. "We should stick together."  
"I want another look at that temple," Elantar replied. "I don't want us running into anything else unexpected. If there's danger, call twice like a Rackenspree."  
"And what does that sound like?" Arden chuckled.  
"Eldarion will know," she said, turning away.

* * *

The temple was a simple enough space. She failed to see what had affected the Cleric in such a way and feared that he was emotionally weakened. As she examined the room, she realised that this is what she had been most missing: solitude.

Elantar had become grateful for the few hours she had to herself at night as her companions slept, and always volunteered for the first watch. But being alone, with a task to perform, was what she was best equipped to do. She thoroughly examined the room, finding three doors off of it. None of them were trapped, which didn't surprise her too much, but she wanted to be sure. There were some sounds from behind two of the doors, but before she could investigate fully, she was interrupted by unusual sounds from the direction of the courtyard. Guessing that these were supposed to be Rackenspree calls, she went to investigate.

"What is it?" she called over to Eldrann, who was waiting by the door of the hut.  
"Rats!" he shouted back.  
"Rats? You called me for rats?" she replied irritably.  
"Eldarion thought you should know…"  
"There are six of you in there," Elantar called back, "you can deal with a few rats."

She returned to the chapel and resumed her search. The sounds from the other side of the door near the altar had fallen silent, and there were no sounds from the other doors either. She thoroughly searched the rest of the hall for any more secrets, but found none, and then tried the door nearest to the altar, only to find it locked.

"Elantar!"

Eldarion was furious. They met again back in the courtyard. The Ranger was red of face, breathing deeply and covered in small scratches and bite marks.  
"Leave all the fighting to us, would you?" He asked aggressively. "What have you been doing while we've been shouldering the work?" he added.  
"Making sure we don't run into any more giant frogs or anything," she responded. "The chapel is safe, but we're not alone here so it might be a good idea to keep your voice down a bit."

The rest of the party had joined them by this time. Boshley and the Orcs were also covered in minor scratches, but the Wizard and the Bard seemed unaffected.  
"Did you two stay out of it?" Elantar asked. Eldarion rolled his eyes.  
"We fought the rats off too, just from further away," Arden answered.  
"You wasted arrows on rats?" Elantar asked.  
"Well… they were pretty big rats." Eldrann added.

Elantar paused for a second, and peered into the hut. "Did you get them all?" she asked.  
"Yes, no thanks to you," Eldarion scoffed. "Look," he added, "there's a fair bit of stuff in here that's worth looking through. Are you going to help us seeing as you seem to think no one else can spot anything?"  
"I'm going to bar this door and I'll be in. Like I said, we're still not alone here," she added cautiously.

It was mostly junk. Some old bits of rope and gardening equipment: it was just a tool shed. Elantar was just about ready to give up, when Arden pulled out a small box containing some coins. 'We can add these to the stash," she said grinning."

"Hey!" Boshley squeaked. "This is some very old brandy! I for one could do with a drink. Anyone care to join me?"

They each took a small swig. Eldrann was most impressed.  
"Don't drink any more!" he snapped. "To the right buyer, this is worth more gold than we've found so far!"

Boshley frowned. Elantar suspected that he'd gladly have polished the lot of it off and assumed that Eldrann would be keeping a close eye on him from now on.

They rested there for about a few minutes, and took on some rations. Elantar, after warning the others about what she'd heard, stayed on alert the whole time. Eldarion joined her after a few minutes, looking like he had something to prove.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes**

Last chapter, The Party had just stopped for a rest, amidst an internal squabble or two. This chapter includes a great Natural One moment.

* * *

A scream got all of their attention. It came from the direction of the chapel, and the party all looked nervously at one another.  
"A prisoner?" Eldrann ventured.  
"Hopefully this Wizard…" Eldarion added.

They moved through to the chapel, and saw no sign of the Wizard's Apprentice, or any would-be captors.  
"The door behind the altar," Elantar whispered. She moved across with Eldarion and Gravak. They could hear deep, gravelly voices behind the door, and another scream that made them all flinch.

As they approached the door, Eldarion heard voices from inside.  
"I can't understand what they're saying. Gravak, can you take a listen?" The Cleric put his ear to the door, and then shook his head.  
"I can't understand them. They're not Orcs," he whispered.  
"They're Ogres," Elantar responded, listening carefully. "It sounds like there's two of them, and they're enjoying hurting something." She'd fought Ogres before; they were a regular problem back home, and to help combat them she had studied their language.

Eldarion signalled for the others to join them and Buttercup charged up and into the door. She collided with great force, but the door didn't budge. The sounds from behind the door stopped. Eldarion looked disdainfully at her before turning the handle and opening the door in a far less spectacular fashion.

The next few moments passed in a blur for Elantar, partly because she inadvertently spent some of it on the floor. Boshley and Buttercup had charged straight in with confidence, whilst the rest of the party hung back either arming bows or readying spells. Elantar followed the Gnome in, jumped up onto the top of his head before attempting to summersault over one of the Ogres. It was the sort of thing she'd pulled off many times before, but there were new people to show off in front of. As she stepped onto Boshley's head, something slipped. Instead of taking to the air, she fell full force into the Ogre's broad chest and bounced onto the hard stone floor.

There would be no easy recovery of her reputation from this. She lay on the ground for a few seconds, and had to think quickly. There was no way to style it out, so she simply stood up slowly. She'd blame the Gnome later.

Even with her stroke of misfortune, they were clearly winning the fight. Elantar considered leaving them to it: they outnumbered the Ogres six-to-two without her, and she had spotted the prisoner.

He wasn't in a good way. Unmistakably Elven though: she could see his features through the caked on dirt. She had no idea how long he'd been here, but that time had taken a heavy toll. His right hand was raw and bloody, chaffed on the manacles that chained him to the wall. His left hand simply wasn't there anymore, and crimson soaked bandages covered his wrist. She started to move towards him, when she was forced to suddenly duck a wildly swinging club. She did need to focus on the fight afterall.

The Gnome and the Barbarian were for the most part holding the Ogres' attention and she used the opportunity to get in behind one of them. She struck at the back of the closest one's neck and it howled in pain, spinning around to seek out this new threat. As its eyes found Elantar's, it fell, pierced with three or four arrows from the doorway. The second Ogre was slain shortly afterwards: Boshley, Buttercup and Gravak, who had joined them in the chamber, had set about it and with the support of the rest of the party, the Ogre was overwhelmed.

The party crowded around the prisoner. Elantar looked him over, before beckoning Arden across.  
"You talk to him," she directed, turning her attention to the manacles, which were open within about a minute.

"Who are you?" Arden demanded of the prisoner. He shuddered, and slowly rose to his feet.  
"Are you here to rescue me?" he responded.  
"We're looking for a wizard called Taran Goldstar," Boshley interjected. "Would that be you?"  
"Y-yes…" he stammered. "How did you find me?"  
"How long have you been here?" asked Gravak, ignoring his question.  
"I… I really don't know. Maybe a week?" I've been trying to count meals and sunsets but…"  
"Let me see to your injuries," said Arden, taking on a kindlier tone. "Leave me with him for a few minutes everyone."

One by one, the party slowly backed away. Elantar was careful to remain in earshot. She noticed that Eldrann had done the same.

Arden was good at this, it seemed. The party had relied on her for diplomatic tasks, and she had negotiated them a very good fee for this quest. He watched her in action now. She excelled at putting people at ease and read them very well. Elantar was very wary of being dishonest in front of her.

Boshley had approached the prisoner with his water skin. They left him for a few minutes whilst Arden reported back.  
"He says he's Taran Goldstar."  
"Only _says_ he is?" Eldarion asked. "You think otherwise?"  
"He probably is," she replied. "It's more likely than another Elf Wizard being here. It's just…"  
"Just what?" asked Eldrann.  
"I think he's hiding something, that's all. He spoke about a few things, I just don't think he's telling all of it yet."  
"What did he say?" asked Gravak. "Are there any more Ogres?"  
"He says there are, but he doesn't know how many. He says there have been more Orcs here than we've accounted for so far as well, so we need to be careful."  
Gravak nodded in agreement.

"What was he doing here?" asked Eldrann.  
"Well, this is where he gets cagey. Something about a treasure, and a key. He claims to not know where it's hidden, how it's secured, how the key works, or even where the key is now," she reported.  
"He's in a bad way. Perhaps he'll be more forthcoming after some rest. Will you keep an eye on him Arden?" Eldrann asked.  
"Of course," she replied.

* * *

The sun would begin to rise in less than twenty minutes. Gravak still slept deeply and hadn't stirred in the time she'd been here. Surefooted and silent, she paced the room in conflict.

Only a few days ago, she despised Gravak simply for his Orcish heritage, and very nearly turned the other way in Dennovar to leave them all to it. It was only the lure of information that kept her in the party at first, but over the past few days her perception had begun to change. The simple hatred and mistrust she felt towards all strangers had subsided when it came to Gravak. She had watched and listened to him over the past few days, and felt that the Cleric had more in common with her than anyone else in the party; they both had a hidden purpose. She had no idea what his purpose was, but he had earned her respect. And besides, he'd twice saved her life in Demara's Fortress.

* * *

The party proceeded with caution, Taran Goldstar walking gingerly alongside Arden after taking a couple of healing potions. They had taken one of the other doors that led away from the temple and deeper into the side of the mountain. A long gloomy corridor stretched before them, torches burning down to their last every few yards. Elantar moved ahead to scout with Eldarion while the rest of the party waited. The corridor split not far ahead, Elantar taking the left and Eldarion continuing straight ahead.

She found that her corridor didn't last much longer, coming to an end after a few more steps. There were, however, two large doors facing one another that she found in the fading light. She needn't have found these to know that something was there though. Off to her left was a deep growling sound she had heard from back in the temple, only this time it was much louder.

She splashed red ink on the door, her agreed signal with Eldarion for caution, and stepped silently to its opposite. There was total silence behind it, but it was locked. Just as the lock released under the manipulation of her pick, a crashing, clanking sound began moving towards her. Instinctively, she swung around to face the former door, but there was nothing happening. Pausing to listen carefully, she could hear that each metallic clunk was accompanied by a quick breath and tiny squeak. It took her only a few moments to realise what this meant: the Gnome had decided all was well and that he should follow the scouts along the passage. The way that his armour clashed against itself echoed around the ancient passage, played tricks with her ears and seemed to come from all around. She felt around the floor for a pebble and as he rounded the corner, threw it, scoring a hit on the side of Boshley's head. She glared for silence and gestured for him to be still, motioning towards the door. He simply looked confused, but seemed to understand enough to realise he should stop where he was.

Elantar turned back to the second door, and silently swung it open.

Guard raised, she crept into the new room, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Something flew at her. Instinctively, she evaded to her left, and then flinched backwards as a second something came at her. The third connected and her body seized up. Elantar fell to the ground, unable to move at all, and saw her assailant.

The aberration standing over her had eight tentacles protruding ahead of its body. Each one reached out a good six or seven feet, she guessed, and had small but sharp spines on the underside. It was these spines that had pierced her chain shirt, and a chill numbness had spread quickly from her right shoulder. Now, she was helpless as the thing lifted her feet-first towards its gaping maw. She tried to call out, but found her voice to be inactive and resigned herself to a grisly end as teeth began to bite into her legs.

She was suddenly no longer alone. Boshley had charged in, swatting aside tentacles with his shield, whilst Buttercup hacked at them with her axe. The Carrion Crawler was distracted, but unperturbed. Elantar realised that, more than anything, the beast was simply hungry.

Gravak arrived in the chamber, mace poised to strike, but he couldn't land a blow with his companions in the way. He reached up and pulled Elantar from under the arms, slowly drawing her from the mortal peril she'd landed herself in. She lay on the cold stone floor looking up at the ongoing battle, still involuntarily motionless. Her companions had begun to beat the beast back, the spines on its tentacles unable to penetrate the armour of Gravak or the Gnome. Buttercup had suffered the same paralysis as Elantar, however, as a tentacle slashed down on her neck. She fell to the ground, enraged and with hate-filled eyes. The two fighters lay on the ground staring helplessly at one another. Arden and Eldrann had joined the party in the chamber whilst Taran cowered in the corridor. There was no sign of Eldarion.

Eventually, the Crawler was laid low. It expired with a piteous moan, and fell hard to the ground. Elantar's thoughts turned to the door opposite the one to this chamber, and the sounds she had heard from there. There was no way that this fight would have passed unnoticed, but she was still unable to warn her companions. She wondered why nothing had emerged from there as yet.

After a minute or so more, she began to regain movement. Buttercup had already done so, and was helping the rest of the party search the room. Breathing deeply, she downed a healing potion and began to feel immediately invigorated. She looked towards Gravak, knowing that she now owed him her life but having no idea how to repay him. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to. The natural enmity she felt towards all Orc-kind set her into an internal conflict.

"There's something in the room opposite," she declared, joining the rest of the party. Elantar felt the shame that they all wanted her to feel after her close call, but decided to ignore it.

Eldarion entered the room. "Watch the door," she said to him assertively. He was silent, but his body language betrayed his reluctance to obey. Perhaps he'd seen her signal though, and he kept careful watch.

"That's a pretty sword," said Arden, drawing a short blade from amongst a pile of old sacking.  
"And magical!" Eldrann added, as he took it from her.  
"Oh yeah? What does it do then?" Arden asked irritably.  
"I don't know," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.  
"You never do, do you?" Elantar pitched in as she joined them, taking the blade from him. She doubted any of them were more skilled with a Shortsword than her. She tried it for size. "It may look nice, but it's horribly made. The balance is terrible," she told them.

"Let me have a look?" Boshley had joined them, diverting his attention from the search, where Buttercup was beginning to slowly drag a huge sack of something very heavy across the floor. "It's not a Shortsword!" he squeaked, taking it from Elantar's hand, "it's a hand-and-a-halfer, made for somebody about my size."  
"It seems to have a new owner then," Elantar said. "Maybe you'll be able to figure out what the apparent magic does better than Eldrann." The Wizard pretended to ignore her and was cautiously approaching Buttercup.

"S'mine!" the Barbarian shouted at him.  
"I only asked what you'd found," Eldrann stated. Gravak stooped and opened the sack. Buttercup glowered at him, but was less aggressive that she had beenwith the Wizard.  
"It's full of silver," he declared. "There must be over a thousand coins in here."

"The key!" Taran blurted out, pointing towards Arden.  
"Key?" she asked, confused. "This is quite clearly a very well made flute. A bit of an odd shape at this end, I'll grant you, but I was hoping there'd be no contest over who claimed this!"  
"Err… Can I talk to you in private?" he asked the Bard.  
"OK… I suppose," said Arden, joining him at the far end of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes**

We rejoin the action after the party have duffed-over a Carrion Crawler: Elantar got away with that one...

* * *

They had been talking quietly for a couple of minutes before Eldarion fled into their chamber.  
"There's a couple of things in that room that I'd rather not try to fight off on my own," he said, panicked. With grins on their faces, Buttercup and Boshley hefted their weapons and approached the door opposite their chamber. Turning the handle this time, Buttercup opened the door and was immediately set upon by a giant wolf.

She sprawled backwards across the floor, twisting a knee in the process. Boshley screamed a battlecry, and leapt headlong at the wolf, brandishing his new sword.

"HAR, HAR, HAR!" a huge voice bellowed in the Giant tongue. "Look at the size of this morsel! This won't fill our cooking pots; take them all!" Boshley was momentarily distracted by the huge bellowing Ogre that stood behind the wolf, and he too was sent to the floor where he struggled to regain his feet under the weight of his armour.

"HAR, HAR, HAR!" the Ogre continued, "this will be easy pickings! Orc!" he gestured towards Gravak, "your mother was here yesterday. She was my breakfast!" Elantar was sure that in Ogre society this would be considered incredibly witty, but it was wasted on Gravak who had no idea what the Ogre was saying.

"Take the wolf!" was all that the Cleric responded with, as Buttercup and Boshley both regained their feet. Boshley charged it head on, swatting at its face with his shield. Buttercup dodged a swinging paw and moved to its right flank. Arden began to play _Hares in the Meadow_ and the wolf was momentarily distracted. Elantar took the opportunity to move to its left, swinging her swords in a deadly arc to sever its hamstrings.

The wolf, breaking its fascination with Arden's tune, howled in pain and sank on its haunches. Boshley stabbed at its eyes before Buttercup decapitated it with a neat axe swing.

Elantar paused to take note of her surroundings. The wolf was pierced three times with arrows, and in the corridor Eldarion was reloading while Eldrann lowered his bow. This had quite clearly been a joint effort. Gravak had been holding the Ogre's attention while he had more abuse slung at him, and Taran was hiding behind the Elves in the corridor.

But now, with the death of what appeared to be his favourite pet, the Ogre's attention was broken. He raised a pair of giant axes and barrelled headlong towards Buttercup as Eldrann began to chant in a tongue that Elantar did not recognise. The threatened blow never landed, as the Ogre instead collapsed in fits of laughter.

Eldrann looked the very definition of smug.

Buttercup, Eldarion, Boshley and Elantar all made short work of the Ogre as he lay helpless under the power of Eldrann's curse.

"Search him," Eldrann commanded, "and search the room."

The Wizard himself joined them in the task. Boshley pulled a thick leather bound book from the Ogre's waist pouch.  
"Is this one of those spellbooks that Wizards carry?" he asked. "Taran, it has your name on it, it must be yours!"  
"Fool!" Eldrann shouted, snatching it from him. "We could have tested if it was really him!"  
"Look," Arden joined in, "this _is_ Taran Goldstar, alright? Who else is going to be here? If you still don't believe him, ask him what spells are in the book."

Eldrann nodded in agreement, and so began a lengthy discussion about spells, which Elantar had no interest in whatsoever.

"It's getting late," she finally interrupted. The fights they had just been in had taken their toll on all of them.  
"Shall we stop here for the night?" Eldrann suggested.  
"It's quite central here," Taran pointed out, "and Bonegnasher's death won't go unnoticed."  
"Bonegnasher?" Elantar asked, prodding the Ogre corpse with her foot.  
"He was in charge here," Taran answered.

"How about the room where we fought off the giant rats?" Arden suggested.  
"Where _some of us_ fought off the giant rats you mean…" Elantar wondered if Eldarion would ever just let it go. She made no response, but voiced her agreement with Arden's plan.

As soon as Taran Goldstar had fallen asleep, Arden filled them in on the flute she had found.

"He didn't get a chance to try it here," she said. "He found out that a keyhole that unlocks a secret chamber opens at the sound of _Ode To Midnight_ played only on this flute. He wasn't really sure if he knew the tune though."  
"Do you know it?" Eldrann asked.  
"Of course I know it!" Arden snapped.

Eldrann readied a scathing retort, but another look at Arden made him think better, and he bit it back. He skulked away to his bedroll.

"Did he say where this chamber was supposed to be?" Eldarion asked.  
"No," she answered, "I don't think he really has any idea. He thought this place was empty when he came though, he just wanted to look around for clues and see if he could maybe find it himself."

Elantar's watch passed without incident. She'd re-barred the door back into the entrance hall from the courtyard, just in case, but nobody approached the party's chosen resting spot. When her watch was up, and she woke Eldarion for his turn, he didn't say a word to her. She couldn't decide if she preferred him silent and bitter or cocky and loud-mouthed.

She struggled to sleep. There had been rats here.

 _Rats_!

She couldn't tell the others. Admitting to any weakness would do nothing to improve her standing with them. Admitting to a fear as irrational as rats would make her a laughing stock, and she was quite happy with Boshley Bentock holding that honour. The Gnome was doing nothing to help matters there; he'd fought skilfully and courageously when he wasn't getting eaten by giant frogs, drawing attention to the party or falling into holes.

It quite clearly wasn't rats she should be scared of. She felt no fear as she tried to fight off the Carrion Crawler that almost killed her. _Would have_ killed her if it hadn't been for Gravak. She had no idea what motivated the Orc to save her, and she'd been wondering what to do about it ever since. Clearly, she owed him. In the past, that usually meant death to the person she was indebted to. It was just easier that way… not to mention cheaper.

The Crawler had caused other problems as well. Every few minutes her hands would turn numb and she'd worry that her body would stop responding again. The wound in her shoulder where it had infected her burned intermittently hot and cold. All in all, it was a fitful night's sleep for Elantar.

* * *

Eldarion woke them all at dawn. "Someone's come back," he stated in hushed tones, "a few seconds ago, through the main gate."

They were all roused and prepared in a few moments. Elantar waited by the door for Eldarion and Gravak to join her. Eldrann, who it turned out had already been awake for some time, was slower to react as he carefully packed away his spellbook.

Gravak put his ear to the door. "More Orcs," he whispered. "They're preparing the corpses for burial. They seem relieved to not see any Ogres... Something about... wait..." he paused as if considering his next words. "They're talking about being free from the Ogres. I don't think they were working together."

"No matter," said Eldarion, "they're in our way." He signalled for the others to join them. Boshley once again made far too much noise. The voices in the entrance hall stopped, and the unmistakable sounds of weapons being drawn could be heard.

Eldarion counted off three on his fingers and opened the door. Buttercup, as was becoming usual, was first through the door, followed by the Gnome. They both looked for Orcs to face off against and shouted challenges. Elantar paused to take in the scene as Gravak, Eldarion, Arden and Eldrann followed the others through the door. Taran was leafing through his own spellbook.

Five Orcs awaited the charge. The pits were clearly visible this time, and there were no Orcs in the rafters to ambush them. Boshley quickly skewered one on his sword, and Buttercup counted for another. Eldarion drew two arrows and put them both into the neck of a third. Elantar and Gravak engaged a forth, and soon over-powered it.

"Take the last one alive!" Eldrann suddenly shouted. Elantar was impressed at his quick thinking and was grateful that he'd finally had a decent idea. Buttercup bellowed at it in Orcish, and he sunk to his knees whimpering.

Arden stepped forwards to interrogate him. He either didn't understand her questions, or was pretending not to. Either way, he looked disdainfully at the Bard and spat at her feet.  
"Err... Gravak?" she said reluctantly, "maybe you should take this one."

Gravak spoke calmly to the Orc, and filled the rest in on details as they came up.  
"Five Ogres altogether... no more Orcs."  
"Ask him what they're doing here," Eldrann chipped in. Gravak relayed the question.  
"He says this is their home... The Ogres turned up a few days ago, just before the Elf. They must mean Taran," he said, turning back to them.

"What have the Ogres been doing here?" it was Arden with a question this time.  
"They... hmm... they've been making the Orcs dig." Gravak said something in Orcish, then "under the mountain. The fortress was built into the side of the mountain, and the Ogres made the Orcs dig in a large room after Taran gave up something about treasure hidden here."  
"They tortured me! Cut off my hand!" Taran began to weep.  
"Nobody blames you, Elf," Gravak consoled him.

Elantar had a question too: "Can you find out something about the layout of the place?"  
"There's... the storage hall... that's where they've been digging... through the door on the far side of the temple," Gravak said slowly as he translated. "The last Ogres are probably in the kitchens... there are other slaves there... and a well."

"What will he do if we let him go?" Eldrann asked.  
"Leave for north of the mountains... find another tribe to join up with." Gravak translated again.  
"Or come back with help... I say we kill him. He can't tell us anything else useful," Eldarion announced. The Orc looked both concerned and angry. Elantar suspected he could understand the Common Tongue after all. Eldrann and Boshley looked like they agreed with the Ranger's suggestion, the others weren't so sure. Elantar could see the logic in that, but tried to look like she wasn't really concerned.

"How about we secure him?" Arden suggested. The party agreed to this as a reluctant compromise. One prisoner was all it had taken: everybody had seemed to stop trusting one another. "Elantar? You're probably best at this."

Elantar took a short length of rope from her pack and began to manipulate it into loops. They wouldn't quite form right, and she realised that her hands had begun to turn numb again. It was too late to stop though, and she was making a hash of it. The prisoner began to laugh. He said something to Gravak that she didn't understand. The Cleric looked on with a steely gaze, but Buttercup began to join in the laughter, poking fun at Elantar's poor rope work.

She lowered the rope, flexed her hands, closed her eyes and drew a few deep breaths. She began to regain feeling in her hands again and restarted, much better this time. The Orc's laughter soon stopped, and she pulled hard to make sure that the bonds were especially uncomfortable.


	5. Chapter 5

The Final Chapter of this story arc. The Party have found and rescued Taran Goldstar... but what about the treasure?

* * *

Deducing that they should deal with any remaining Ogres before anything else, they decided to make for the kitchen. Eldarion led the way, claiming that he had found the door earlier.  
"When?" Elantar asked.  
"When you almost got yourself killed by the crawler. Take care in future… I'd hate for anything unfortunate to happen to you."

She would definitely be looking out for stray arrows come the next fight.

The party followed the usual plan when they reached the kitchen, and followed Boshley and Buttercup into the room. Elantar felt like she had a lot to prove after the Carrion Crawler incident and was riled by her short conversation with Eldarion. She became reckless, and walked right into the swing of an Ogre's club. Her world went black for a few seconds.

She hurt. Everywhere. Her ribs were cracked and every breath bought searing pain to her chest. Her head felt light and throbbed in agony where she'd hit it on the floor. She lay in an expanding pool of her own blood, and for the second time in as many days expected the end.

Gravak knelt by her, rested a hand on her shoulder and spoke. Her skull re-knit itself where it had shattered; her ribs cracked back into place and the pool of blood vanished.

She felt stronger and more alert than she had in days. She stood, and for a few seconds stared open-mouthed at the Orc Cleric.

 _Twice_.

She now owed him two life-debts.

He turned away, putting his attention back into the ongoing fight. Boshley and Buttercup had each engaged an Ogre, and the others were helping them out.

Then she saw the slaves.

They were manacled hand and foot, but had restricted movement available to them. The three of them huddled together in the far corner of the dark kitchen. Elantar drew her hand crossbow, and fired at the Ogre trading blows with Boshley, landing a bolt in its left shoulder that it barely noticed. She re-loaded as she moved towards the prisoners.

As before, the fight didn't last all that long. Both Ogres lay prone and covered in wounds. Elantar worked on the manacles whilst Arden spoke with them.

"Where are you from?" she asked first.  
"We're all from a village south of here called Torlynn," the youngest amongst them answered.  
"We know it," Arden answered. "How long have you been here?  
"I don't know for certain… It was midsummer's eve when we were taken. The village was preparing for the Mid-Summer festival. None of us have seen the sun since."  
"That was over two weeks ago," Elantar observed. "Were you here before the Ogres?"  
"No, no... they bought us with them; we all arrived packed into crates only a few days ago, but we've been their captors for... two weeks, you say?" The prisoner sat down again as Elantar continued to work on his leg shackles.

"My little brother has kept us hopeful all this time." The new speaker had a female voice, but visually, under the dirt, was indistinguishable from the boy beside her. She smiled and sighed with relief. "I am Wyllsa, my brother is called Dullen." The third slave was a much older man.

"Is he your father?" Arden asked the girl.  
"No. This is Darius. We didn't know each other before we were taken, but he was a farmer in Torlynn. He hasn't spoken since we arrived here." The old man nodded a greeting but remained silent.

"Do you know anything about that Elf wizard over there?" Eldrann asked as he joined them. "The one with the missing hand."  
"I recognise him," Dullen answered. "One of us had to take him his meals and change his bucket."  
"Sometimes he asked if we'd confused the two," Wyllsa added. "We weren't allowed to say anything to him though. They were always watching."  
"Who were?" asked Arden.  
"The Ogres," said Dullen. "There was always at least one watching. There were five of them altogether, have you seen any more?"  
"Five? We got them all," Elantar confirmed.  
"Any more Orcs?" Eldrann asked suspiciously.  
"We didn't have much contact with them," said Dullen, "they didn't much like the Ogres either though. They were slaves as well really, they were made to dig and keep watch."

"There's a well here!" Gravak called from the other side of the kitchen.  
"Careful!" Wyllssa called, "there are bats in there. They keep to themselves if you don't carry too bright a light or make too much sound though."  
"Bats don't bother me, girl!" squeaked Boshley, strolling into the side chamber. Eldarion held out an arm to bar him.  
"Wait," he said sternly. Boshley grimaced up at him.

"The key..." Taran whispered to Arden, not particularly subtly.  
"Let's give it a go," announced Eldrann. "Arden, you go ahead with the flute, I'll put the bats to sleep. I can give you about a minute or so to play your tune."  
"Not alone," Eldarion said, "I'll go in too."

Gravak and Boshley also volunteered to go in. Once inside, Eldrann began to chant softly in the doorway, raising his staff to the ceiling. The four companions inside were engulfed by a hail of around three hundred plummeting bats; every one of them asleep.  
"That was a pretty stupid idea!" Eldarion snapped, clutching at his head.

Arden brushed herself off and began to play. Faintly, the fortress played the tune back to her.  
"That never happened before," said Taran.  
"It was just an echo," Eldrann responded. Arden looked as if she disagreed; she should know how she played it and how the echo would sound.

"There's nothing here though," she said. She returned to the slaves, who Elantar had just finished unlocking from their chains. "Can you show us where the Orcs were digging?" she asked Dullen.  
"Follow me," he replied, a new energy about him since his release.

"One of the Orcs told us that this used to be a wine cellar," announced Wyllsa as they entered the long chamber. Elantar moved with Eldrann and Gravak to the far end.  
"That's some hole," Eldrann observed.

Arden once again began to play _Ode To Midnight_ , and once again the tune repeated.  
"It was louder this time!" called Taran. "I think we're getting closer!"  
"Why don't you try the other end?" Eldrann suggested.

There was something strange about the wall at the far end of the chamber. The rocks were formed different here. Elantar removed a glove and ran her hand over the smooth surface. It was surprisingly warm.

As Arden played for the third time, _Ode To Midnight_ reflected back at them, in its entirety at perfect pitch. Arden had only played the first couple of bars.  
"A keyhole! We've found it!" shouted Taran after the song had finished. "Quick, the key!"

Arden inserted the flute into the keyhole and turned. The lock clicked open.

* * *

They all held their breath as they entered. There were jars: hundreds of jars all across the floor, and three torches on the walls. The torches lit themselves when the party were a few steps into the room.

"Something's not right here," Elantar said under her breath. She couldn't pin-point it.

"Shadows!" Gravak hissed, charging at one and swinging his mace. He hit nothing. Buttercup and Boshley began swinging at darkness too, but they didn't hit anything either.  
"What's happening!?" Arden shrieked.  
"Stand aside!" Taran called. He stood taller than any of them had seen before. Purple light engulfed his hands and he fired it at the closest Shadow. It gave a piercing cry, as if hurt. "Now!" Taran shouted. Boshley's sword and Eldarion's spear both glowed with magical power, and they leapt at Shadows, both feeling their weapons bite.

Elantar remained motionless. "The light..." she whispered. "What's wrong with the light?"  
"Elantar! Again!? Help us!" Eldarion shouted furiously.

She ignored him, slowly approached the wall-mounted torch nearest to her and followed the flickering shadows. But there weren't any. The only shadows in the room were the three spectres her companions were fighting.

Gravak raised his shield and, with a powerful voice, rebuked the spirits in the room. Two of them fled in fear and cowered at the far end of the chamber.

It bought her time to try something risky.

She extinguished the torch. One of the Shadows vanished, and more natural light began to spill into the room from the door.

Buttercup was flailing wildly with her axe and failing to hit anything. A shadow touched her and she... changed. She seemed weaker. Boshley suffered the same fate and had no choice but to drop his shield. Shortly afterwards, his armour was too heavy for him as well and he crashed to the floor unable to move. Eldarion was also touched by a Shadow and retreated, dropping his spear in favour of his bow.

Elantar had reached the second torch. She watched the Shadow, still cowering from Gravak's voice, vanish as she extinguished the torch.  
"Eldarion! Put the torch out! They're linked somehow," she called to the Ranger, who was standing right next to the last torch. He did so, and the room was safe.

Buttercup was, quite literally, drained of strength. Boshley lay squeaking and panting in his armour, unable to move. Elantar knew exactly how that felt. The room looked on, shocked, when she was the first to step forwards to help the Gnome out.

"So where's this treasure?" Arden asked Taran. He gestured around the room. "Well?"  
"A treasure trove of knowledge!" Taran grinned.  
"He's gone mad!" Eldarion sneered.  
"No, wait..." said Eldrann, approaching a wall. "This is a door. And this."  
"Here too," Elantar added.  
"The collected histories of all the peoples of the world," Taran exclaimed excitedly. "Hundreds of years of knowledge, and it's all mine!"  
Eldrann coughed for attention.  
"Ours!" Taran quickly corrected himself.

Elantar's ears had pricked up. "Anything on Elven tribes of the northern Winterlands?"  
"I'm sure there must be! Will you all help me take it back to Dennovar?"

"Wait a second!" Arden screamed furiously. "You knew the treasure was just a load of old books all along?!"  
"Err... Yes?" Taran answered timidly.  
"Arden," Eldrann interjected. "This knowledge is hugely valuable. To everyone. You've done a great thing in helping to find it." The Bard stormed out of the chamber, muttering under her breath. Eldarion went wearily with her.  
"I'm sure she'll write an insulting song about it tomorrow," Eldrann said, shaking his head.

"We should head to Torlynn first," Gravak said. "We need to resupply, collect our reward and we should take these prisoners with us: help them return to their home."

* * *

Her dagger felt as light in her hand as ever. Elantar's decision was made.

She'd already decided in Demara's Fortress, she'd come to realise.

She slipped the two platinum pieces she'd been hiding from the rest of the party from her cloak pouch, and placed them on the dresser. It didn't clear her debt, but it was a start.

Next to it, she took her dagger and etched the Orcish rune for 'E'. She'd begun to learn the language over the past few days, and knew as an almost certainty that her and Gravak were the only people in all of Torlynn who could understand the script. Buttercup was a Barbarian, and everyone knew that Barbarians couldn't read.

Silently as she'd entered the room, she left; a long night of re-living memories and soul searching behind her. She determined then to stick with Gravak until she could repay him fully. She wouldn't tell anyone that, of course: she'd find other, more publicly palatable, reasons to stay with the party.

* * *

They didn't wait much longer in the fortress. Boshley, Eldarion and Buttercup were all exhausted, and would struggle to carry themselves back to Torlynn. The three prisoners they had rescued helped by carrying some of their equipment.

Thinking of the three citizens of Torlynn as prisoners had reminded Elantar of something important: they had one themselves. She'd come to accept that the Orcs here, although hostile, were not necessarily enemies in the same way that the Ogres had been. And with the way that Gravak had treated her, she felt that she owed his Orcish heritage something.

She got there too late though. When she arrived at the entrance hall, Buttercup was already waving goodbye to the Orc that Elantar had struggled to restrain just a couple of hours before. Buttercup turned back, suspicion in her eyes, and Elantar was grateful that the Barbarian was still lacking in strength from the combat with the Shadows.

Elantar hid the trail rations that she'd been planning to give to the Orc prisoner in her cloak and pretended to study something interesting on the wall.


End file.
